


Lovers' Confidences

by Skud



Series: Particular Friends [6]
Category: Master and Commander
Genre: Femslash, Multi, Pre-Slash, crossdress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-02-17
Updated: 2004-02-17
Packaged: 2017-10-02 06:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skud/pseuds/Skud
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Diana, of course, had smoked it at once; and seeing something of her own mad, adventurous spirit in Jagiello, had taken that beautiful young cavalry officer under her wing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lovers' Confidences

**Author's Note:**

> Ties in with, and contains spoilers for, the first couple of chapters of "The Ionian Mission".

Diana, of course, had smoked it at once; and seeing something of her own mad, adventurous spirit in Jagiello, had taken that beautiful young cavalry officer under her wing.

She raised the subject with Stephen on the occasion of their first morning at the Grapes. The exhaustion of their flight from Paris and the upheaval of their hasty wedding had been salved with a night's sound sleep, followed in the morning with a gentle mutual exploration that left them in a breathless tangle of sweat-sheened limbs; Stephen lay on his back with his hands behind his head, and Diana propped herself on one elbow to ask him the question she had been forming since Paris: what was Jagiello's story?

Stephen answered in the most general terms: Jagiello was an officer attached to the Swedish embassy; he had been with them when the _Ariel_ had foundered; he had been imprisoned with them at the Temple in Paris, and had escaped with them and returned to England.

Diana laughed and tugged at his hair. "Devil take your coyness! I know you must know Jagiello's sex as well as I do: even if you do not have a woman's instincts, you are a physician and a naturalist." Stephen turned his eyes away from the ceiling and towards his wife, and calmly remarked that he had imagined that womanly instinct would be insufficient to the task, since so many women had to his certain knowledge been deceived by Jagiello. To be sure, the handsome youth had been harrassed all the way from the Baltic to their Parisian prison by women seeking his better acquaintance.

Diana smiled. "Perhaps I was simply more ready to see it. God knows I am not one of your sheltered women who cannot conceive of a female in breeches."

Stephen recalled the sight of Diana in loose, translucent trousers in India: eminently sensible in the oppressive heat, but no more proper than her position as acknowledged mistress of a Jewish merchant. He was forced to agree. "Acushla, if anyone could imagine a woman in breeches, it is your dear self. I am only surprised that you do not wear them."

"Oh no, they would not go with my pearls at all!" With this she dissolved in infectious mirth; from mirth they fell into caresses, and the conversation was forgotten until they sat breakfasting together an hour later.

"How did you manage to keep it hidden for so long in the Temple?" she asked.

"Oh, we were quite hard pressed, I assure you; but we gave him the far room, and myself the middle one, and if ever Jack should approach when Jagiello was changing his shirt I would waylay him by asking about our escape plan."

"And his real name? Her name. I don't know what to call..." she searched in bewilderment for a pronoun.

"As for that, I have no idea; we had little time or privacy to discuss the matter. I have continued to call him Jagiello, and to use the male pronoun, as you perceive. Not only is his sex largely irrelevant except in the purely biological matter of reproduction, but I think it safer to avoid even thinking a word which I may accidentally speak; I should not wish to commit an indiscretion."

"Well, I admire him for his courage, but I do think he is the most spectacular oddity."

Stephen answered with a slight lift of his eyebrow, saying, "I do not suppose you know the parrot-fish at all?"

"We are not personally acquainted."

"No, I would imagine not." The image of Diana accepting a morning-visit from _sparisoma viride_ swam across his mind. "My point, however, is that it is a species which can change sex at will; and so you see Jagiello is not entirely without precedent in nature."

Over the last of the coffee Diana expressed her intention to know Jagiello better. "I am not surprised in the slightest," said Stephen, "It was one of my earliest thoughts, when I suspected Jagiello's secret, that the two of you should meet. I have no doubt that you will get along famously."

They were interrupted by a tentative and diffident knock at the door. Diana jumped up to answer it, and found Jack on the other side of the threshold, holding his hat in his hand and beaming sheepishly. "I am sorry to intrude," he said, "but I wanted to give you both my love before I left. I am heading home as soon as the post-chaise is here."

Stephen and Diana both entreated him to come in, to take some coffee, realised there was none left, and bade him come in anyway. "No, no," he laughed, "I shan't disturb you any further." With this he kissed Diana, took Stephen's hand in both of his own and clasped it tightly, and wished them all joy before turning on his heel and hurrying downstairs to his conveyance.

* * *

Two weeks later Stephen and Diana had settled into a house in Half Moon Street, a small but elegant place furnished in the best taste under Diana's exacting supervision. Jagiello had found lodgings at one of the establishments most favoured by the more affluent military officers, and was soon quite at home in London. He was often observed gaming at White's or driving a high-perched phaeton at a cracking pace through Hyde Park, and was never without a voucher for Almack's nor a partner to dance with. Invitations to card parties, balls, and routs arrived with astonishing frequency from every society hostess and every mother of an eligible daughter; but it was after a quiet dinner at the Maturin establishment that he found himself sipping port with his host and hostess. There had been only the three of them at table, and Diana could not be persuaded, even if they had tried, to retire to the drawing room at the close of the meal; instead she sat with the port bottle at her hand, and occasionally reached across to take Stephen's cigar for a puff.

"So there we were at Lady Fotheringay's: myself, Jagiello, Colonel Vincent, Captain Harvey, and half the officers of the Horse Guard," said Diana. Stephen had a momentary vision of her setting out their positions in crumbs of ship's biscuit and trying to explain the effect of the weather-gage on dancing-parties, but she swept on: "Every girl in the room wanted to dance with Jagiello, and every mother in the room wanted to know his worth to the penny before they would allow it. I was beset on all sides by matrons asking impertinent questions and begging for introductions; Vincent and the other men were quite left out in the cold; and poor Jagiello just stood there blushing as red as Vincent's coat the whole time."

"I do hope you were able to satisfy the young ladies, Jagiello?" inquired Stephen politely.

Diana answered for him, "He was forced to dance every dance, though I did try to rescue him from the most particularly dreadful girls; and Sophy Stanton-Lacy did her bit too, did she not?"

"Oh yes!" replied Jagiello happily, "I did so enjoy dancing with her, and with you, Diana."

"I'm not surprised the Grand Sophy met your taste," she said. "Those other simpering misses would never do." Jagiello was about to express his admiration for Miss Stanton-Lacy's fine, tall figure and independent spirit when Diana cut him off. "Especially," she added, "once their mothers found out about you. I don't imagine Sir Horace would mind above half, though - he would think it a great jape!"

Jagiello had fallen silent and gone quite pale. He shot an accusatory look at Stephen, who shook his head. "It was none of my doing," he protested, "Diana has known for weeks, and you must not attempt to make me responsible, for I did not tell her a thing."

"Indeed he did not, the wretch!" cried Diana. "It has been like drawing teeth to make him tell me anything, and I have hundreds of questions to ask you. Please, please say you will answer them!"

Jagiello consented with some reluctance, but once the port had been passed round again his spirits improved, and he regaled them both with his history and with the various tricks he had used to maintain his deception these several years. He had been an heiress; had had no mother; had learnt to ride astride and handle a sword at an early age. When his father had died he had run off to Sweden and bought a suit of mens clothes, a fine bay horse, and his commission.

"Didn't your tailor know?" asked Diana. Jagiello replied, "Tailors are splendidly perceptive fellows; barbers also. But I have not yet found one who would not play along, especially for the right consideration. Why, just the other day I was at Scott's --"

"Scott's! Never!" Diana spluttered at the thought of that respectable military tailor fitting Jagiello for a new coat.

"Yes, Scott's; that is my very point. A good tailor can do wonders, and they are ever so discreet."

Now the cat was let out of the bag, Jagiello and Diana became the closest friends. Diana was delighted to take part in the ruse, and played it to the hilt, accompanying Jagiello to the theatre and introducing him to all her friends. Jagiello for his part was entirely smitten with Diana; he had seldom known a woman of such vivacity and courage, such free expression, and such unstudied beauty. Stephen was unsurprised and somewhat amused to see the admiration in Jagiello's eyes; that youth had once confided that he longed for "an Amazon, one of a tribe of women that have never been oppressed, one that I could be friends with, equal friends - oh, how I should love her!" Indeed, when Jagiello had spoken of it that evening in the Baltic, Diana had sprung immediately to his mind, and he was happy to have brought them together.

Their life at Half Moon Street continued pleasant for the most part, though with time Stephen reverted to his bachelor habits and his rooms at the Grapes, leaving Diana with a free hand in domestic affairs. There was no rancour in it; their habits were so different that they were ill-suited to cohabitation, but Stephen still visited daily and played the host when necessary.

One afternoon Diana demanded of Jagiello, "Show me how you do it; I think I could play a man rather well if you would instruct me." Jagiello, grinning with delight, walked her through the paces. "You must step like this... do not hold your hands so... your chin at this angle, see?"

Diana attempted to stride the length of the drawing room. "Oh, this will never do. I cannot fool even myself when I am wearing this ridiculous thing!" She gestured in disgust at her sprigged muslin, which, though exceedingly fashionable, was not at all the thing for striding.

Jagiello pondered a moment, then leapt to a decision. "Wait there -- I will be back upon the instant!" He raced from the room and she heard him call for his horse and ride away.

He returned in less than half an hour, carrying a large bundle. "Diana, are you engaged this evening?"

"No, not at all."

Jagiello bowed formally. "In that case you must allow me to engage you, _sir_, for an evening's entertainment at Vauxhall Gardens. And I shall be your valet and help you dress." With that they raced upstairs, laughing, to Diana's apartment.

Some time later they emerged, Diana in a pair of snowy breeches, silk stockings, and a dark green coat which fit her bound chest remarkably well; she and Jagiello were much of a likeness in build. Any dandy or Corinthian would have found fault with her neckcloth, which was tied too haphazard for fashion, and she would be glad of darkness to obscure the fact that her long hair was plaited and tucked inside her shirt; yet she walked so naturally in her breeches and held her walking stick with such casual ease that they had little real fear of discovery when they went out.

Vauxhall Gardens was alight with lanterns as they strolled through the grounds, watched tumblers and a tight-rope walker, and sipped rack-punch at the supper tables. Diana became quite outrageous as the night wore on, swearing with relish and boasting in a most exaggerated fashion. Eventually Jagiello was forced to separate Diana from one of the strumpets who worked the Gardens, and take her home.

"This is dashed good, I mean damned good fun," she said as he guided her up the back steps.

> "Tell me what is that I spy,  
> Frisky Johnny, randy Johnny,  
> Hanging down beside your thigh,  
> Frisky Johnny, randy Johnny --"

Jagiello clamped a hand over her mouth and pushed her inside, where she began to giggle. "Jagiello, you must be my valet again, for I shall never manage to get out of this get-up alone."

"Nor could you call for your maid; I will help you. Come on now!" They reached Diana's dressing-room, and Jagiello helped her remove her coat and waistcoat and fold them on the chair. She had removed her shirt and shoes for herself, and turning to him asked, "Will you help me with these bands?"

Diana's breasts had been bound close to her body with yard upon yard of linen bandages. She held the thick braid of her hair up with both hands, and spun in circles as Jagiello coiled the linen into a neat roll. At last she stopped, and stood swaying slightly. "I'm dizzy," she stated. Jagiello put down the bandages and took her by the shoulders to steady her. They stood a minute, during which Diana's head cleared. With new-found sobriety she realised she was standing in nothing but a pair of breeches and stockings, and that Jagiello was looking at her with an expression that made her catch her breath.

"Diana," he breathed, then stopped, unsure. Diana leaned towards him; their lips met. In no time at all Diana had helped him remove his own coat and waistcoat. His shirt followed, after a nervous pause; then Diana spun him around as he had spun her, turn by turn exposing his rounded breasts to the dim candlelight. They stood before each other now, two matching figures in pale breeches, their chests bare. Diana looked at him -- at _her_ \-- noticing the smoothness of her skin, the gentle curves which had been invisible until now. Jagiello flushed a deep crimson, and folded her arms across her chest in embarrassment. Diana took a step towards her, reached out, gently took Jagiello's hands and lowered them. Then, still holding her by both hands, she led her to the bed.

* * *

They lay together in the early dawn hours, Jagiello now dressed in his shirt, uncomfortable with his incongruous body in the growing morning light. Diana sprawled naked, and smoked. They talked in hushed voices.

"What of the dear Doctor?" asked Jagiello.

"Oh, he wouldn't mind a bit, I am quite sure," said Diana.

"What kind of husband would not care about his wife taking someone like me into her bed!" Jagiello wondered aloud, and then, when Diana did not answer, cried: "Oh! Oh! I do beg your pardon. I should not have asked such a question."

Diana shook her head. "I was trying to find the right answer, but the truth of it is that Stephen is a dark horse, not at all like other men."

"Has he no jealousy?"

"He had, once," said Diana, a slight frown creasing her forehead. "He loves with all his heart and soul, and I believe it hurt him dreadfully to see me with anyone else. But he has been quite different these last few years. It's Jack, you know."

"Jack?" Jagiello pronounced the name as if it were spelt with a Y. "I do not know the Captain nearly as well as Stephen, though they are such particular friends."

"Ha, yes, that is a good way of putting it; I don't think they could be more particular friends if they were married in law. Come, you must have seen that!" Jagiello perceived that there was no irony or bitterness in Diana's tone, indeed her expression portrayed only affection and good humour.

Jagiello nodded his assent. "They are like brothers. More than brothers."

"Yes, they are so very, very miserable if they are apart for long. I am glad they were not separated in Paris; it would have been a dreadful blow."

Jagiello cast his mind back to their long imprisonment in the old Temple, and saw the truth of it. Jack had fretted terribly when Stephen was taken for questioning, and had spent the long hours pacing the cell with a nervous energy, working fitfully at the mortar between the stones of the privy's seat, and turning towards the door at every slight sound. Jagiello also recalled the night of the Grimsholm mission, when Jack had spent the night staring at the distant island, hoping for Stephen's success but fearing for his life. The entire crew had shared his dread through the long night watches, and had rejoiced only slightly less than the Captain at Stephen's return.

Jagiello recounted their reunion for Diana's benefit: the flag rising on the island at dawn; Aubrey racing down from the top and setting the _Ariel_ in towards shore, flying Catalan colours, scrubbed almost raw, and polished to perfection; his official welcome to the Catalan colonel; his much more heartfelt welcome to his friend: Jagiello had seen them embrace in the continental fashion the moment Maturin had come over the side, and he would not swear there were not tears in the captain's eyes.

"That is very like them!" said Diana, "Though I do not think I have seen them embrace as a general rule."

"Do they... are they... oh, how shall I ask?" Jagiello searched for the right phrase, but Diana found it first.

"Are they lovers in the physical sense? Truly, I don't know. Stephen's morality might inhibit him if he were feeling Popish; Jack I cannot speak for: he is so very much the naval officer that it could fall in either direction. All I know is that they love each other dearly, and that it is good to see."

"And you? Does Stephen love you at all?" Jagiello's face was all sympathy and concern, but Diana would not stand for it. "Of course!" she said, "I did not mean to give you the wrong idea. Did I not tell you he was a complex creature? I dare say he needs us both: Jack is much steadier than I am, but I am more understanding; he shares his passion for music with Jack, but I believe he shares more of his inner thoughts with me. And so you see we are like some kind of theatrical act, each of us with our part to play."

* * *

Jack had come up from Ashgrove Cottage to the Admiralty by post; having received good news there, he strode purposefully towards Maturin's lodgings in the liberty of the Savoy. The night was foggy and the cobblestones shone under his feet as he turned down the lane, and as soon as he had rounded the corner he heard the sounds of his friend's 'cello booming out from an upstairs window left imprudently ajar.

He gave a hearty greeting to Mrs Broad, mounted the stairs, and entered Stephen's room with only the slightest tap at the door. "Do not stop playing, Stephen," he said in what he thought was a soft voice as he removed his damp cloak and hung it on the hook. Stephen was playing one of his favourites, a Boccherini adagio, and looked up only momentarily before continuing.

Jack approached and stood at his shoulder, looking past Stephen's ear to read the music on the stand. The adagio swelled and circled around them, entwining them in its complex fullness. Stephen concentrated intently on his fingering and Jack no less intently on Stephen: his friend's love for the music radiated from him as he drew the bow across the strings, and one pure note after another rested in the air around them. Jack leaned forward to turn the page, and returning, placed his hand on his friend's shoulder. He closed his eyes as Stephen played on, recalling the first time he had heard this piece in the _Leopard_'s great cabin; and his calloused fingertips felt the rhythmic contraction of Stephen's muscles as he bowed.

The music drew to a close, and Jack opened his eyes slowly to find Stephen looking up at him, his face slightly flushed.

"Soul, you are standing in my light."

One corner of Jack's mouth twitched. He released Stephen's shoulder with a brief squeeze, and went to the sideboard to pour two glasses of wine. Stephen placed his instrument gently to one side and gratefully accepted the drink Jack handed him.

"I am happy to see you, my dear. What brings you? I had not expected you up from Ashgrove so soon."

At this Jack's wide grin broke out. "Why, what else but a ship? The _Worcester_, a fourth-rater, for the Toulon blockade. I must go take command of her tomorrow, but I thought I would call on you before I left town."

"When did you arrive? Have you seen Diana?"

"Yes, I was there this afternoon. She had a parlour full of guests, as usual. Jagiello was there again." He drew his brows together in a brief frown. "Stephen... I don't mean to say anything out of line, but that young cock spends an awful lot of time with Diana. You don't think..."

"I think nothing of the sort, my dear. I am certain there is nothing between them that could speak of true cuckoldry except to the vilest sort of gossips. Besides, I am not Diana's wetnurse; she must decide for herself what she wishes her reputation to be; beyond marrying her, there is little I can do in the matter."

"But Stephen, surely propriety, if not honour, demands --"

"The back of my hand to propriety! You must trust me; I know for certain that Diana has not taken another man into her bed, and that is all that matters to me."

Jack nodded his grudging consent, but still maintained the opinion that it was not quite the thing; what was overlooked beyond Gibraltar would not do in London. Then, bringing the subject to a close, he explained the state of the _Worcester_, one of the "forty thieves", an ill-found wall-sided hulk, but hopefully sturdy enough to see out a few months on blockade without coming apart at the seams. She was to sail on the tenth, and Stephen of course was to be surgeon.

Their conversation continued for some time on the subject of knees and futtocks (on Jack's part), and the rare birds of Malta and the islands off Spain (on Stephen's part), each listening to the other turn-about with goodwilled incomprehension, and each bearing the other's ignorance on such important subjects with equanimity born of long friendship. Jack had removed his boots and coat, and sat sprawled in an elbow-chair, while Stephen sat at the table applying rosin to his bow as they talked. They refilled their glasses and ordered a light supper to be sent up; they only wished Killick were here to make his famous toasted cheese and grumble at them in his familiar way.

"Will you stay here tonight?" asked Stephen.

"Only if you will play for me again."

Stephen smiled at him fondly and reached for his 'cello. "With all my heart."

* * *

In the morning Jack rushed off in typical Naval haste with "not a moment to lose", and Stephen began his own preparations at a more relaxed pace. By the evening of the ninth, he had called upon Sir Joseph, consigned the limbs he was dissecting to a medical friend, and had his sea-chest packed and repacked with the interference of Mrs Broad and Diana, both of them conspiring against him to fold his belongings in tissue paper and ensure that he had enough pocket-handkerchiefs.

It was with a light heart that he set out for Portsmouth, accompanied by Diana and driven through the night by Jagiello, who had kindly offered his carriage to save Stephen the trouble of taking the mail-coach. Stephen sat inside with Diana, holding her hand between his own, and talking quietly as the dark countryside flew by outside the windows.

"I cannot understand Sophie at all," said Diana, referring to Jack's wife of several years. "She sits so calmly at Ashgrove waiting for Jack for years on end, and never seems to fret or worry; I know I shall be dismal, my dear, perfectly dismal."

"Nonsense," replied Stephen. "You have never been dismal at my absence before." At this she protested vehemently: she had not been married to him before; had not suspected she was carrying his child; had not feared for his life; why, it was a different situation entirely.

"Diana, dear, you must know that every time we go into battle I spend the entire time below decks, and seldom see so much as a single ball fly. Besides, you know what an excellent captain Jack is, and how adroitly he handles that bewildering array of sheets and mousepuddings and mizzentopjibs. And his futtocks. Faith, there are few his better on that score; I am as safe with him as a babe at his mother's breast. More so as we will be in squadron, with friendly ports no more than a day's sail in any direction."

Diana gave a weak smile. "What _is_ a mousepudding?"

"Why, I am not quite sure, but it is often spoken of as one of the most important parts of the ship."

"I'm sure it is." She spoke a little tartly, then softened. "Stephen, will you write to me very often?"

"Dear heart, as often as I can; though of course the packets are not at all regular. And if you write to me, you must be sure to date every letter: Sophie never does, and it vexes Jack extremely to receive them all disordered."

They reverted to inconsequentialities, discussing Sophie and Jack's children, Diana's forthcoming card-party, and Jagiello's latest admirers as the miles passed under their wheels.

The trip was not entirely without incident; a mishap with a new set of horses and a wagon on the road had caused Jagiello to run them into a post and lose a wheel, not to mention an injury to his arm which had required Stephen's attention while the carriage was repaired. Diana had taken the reins after that, and handled them admirably, much to Jagiello's delight. But regardless of her skill and her plying of the whip, it was noon before they found themselves hurtling down the cobbled streets of Portsmouth towards the dock.

Diana leapt from the box, opened the door, and helped Stephen wrestle an enormous package through it. "I hope we are not too late! Which ship is the _Worcester_? Has she sailed?" she asked in a rapid stream.

"Dear, I cannot tell, for I have never seen her before in my life. But I do perceive the blue peter at the mast of that ship there, and there is Bonden approaching in that little boat; I am sure I am not too late." He turned to Diana and Jagiello, who were standing close by each other at the wheel of the coach. "I hope you will take care of each other while I am gone," he said.

Diana kissed him tenderly, and promised that they would. "And you must take care of Jack, dear," she said. "I know he will take care of you." Tears sprang to her eyes, and she dabbed apologetically at them with her handkerchief. "Oh! Here comes Sophie in the boat. Quick, run!" Stephen gave her a last kiss, shook Jagiello's unbandaged hand, and ran for the waiting gig.


End file.
